I have fresh coffee 
in a white mug 
warming my palms. 
I have three front steps 
to sit on, to watch sparrows 
dipping in and out of trees. 

I’ve been reading 
a brand-new paperback 
my daughter sent in the mail. 
Its smooth cover pleases 
my fingertips. Its pages 
sing like poetry. 

From next door, the old black mutt 
carries the warmth of her whole 
happy body into my arms. 
My neighbor waves and smiles. 
And all morning, my heart 
has not twisted with dread. 

Bio: Jennifer L. Freed